


ir vestido de gris

by cptsuke



Series: stories from the same routine [1]
Category: The Losers (Comic), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first he figures it's just a sex thing. Only, he's not even sure that they are actually fucking. Which might actually be worse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [a repost from Livejournal]
> 
> warnings: mostly off screen violence, dirty talk, bad spanish and swearing (like a motherfucker)
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [choasangel](http://choasangel.livejournal.com/) \- though any remaining mistakes are very likely mine.

At first he figures it's just a sex thing. Just physical release and it's those two that have gravitated together because Pooch is so spoken for and you'd have to be a suicidal masochist to let Roque near your junk.  
  
So he was okay with that. Well, not _okay_  okay, but he kinda got it. Only, after ~~stealthily spying~~ casually observing he's not even sure that they are actually fucking.  
  
Which might actually be worse.  
  
Because if what Clay is seeing isn't two guys letting off steam, it's two Spec Ops Soldiers falling in love.  
  
  
What makes the whole situation especially fucked up is that Clay is pretty sure the two don't even realise what they're doing.  
  
  
  
  
Clay takes to calling it 'this thing' in his head, because anything else is going to be admitting things that Clay has gotten very good at ignoring.  
  
  
  
  
Clay is pretty sure this _thing_ is going to end badly.  
It kind of sneaked up on him in a way he's no longer used to.  
Quiet and stealthy. Like a sniper. Sneaky and completely unexplainable. Like a hacker.  
Son of a bitch, whatever the situation between the two, Clay is sure it's heading towards something ugly.  
  
Cougar's too territorial,  
(Jensen flirts with _everything_ , hell, he flirts with _machinery_ )  
and too damned good with his rifle.  
  
Jensen can ruin lives just as effectively and thoroughly with only a computer.  
(Clay had seen what the hacker did to his sister's ex - "People always underestimate the geek." Jensen had claimed, tapping his chest like he was Tarzan - Clay had laughed at the time, but he's been learning the truth in Jensen's cheesiness.)  
  
  
  
  
Jensen comes into the team after an interesting altercation with his previous CO. Clay hasn't got the full details because, like most of Jensen's files, it's been mostly and mysteriously deleted, but the wake of ridiculousness and insubordination the hacker has left behind him makes Clay eager to mould the guy into a Loser.  
  
Of course, Jensen goes about everything backwards.  
  
Pooch, he manages to piss off the second week he's there. (He fixes that over the next month with three illegal acts, two frowned upons and a stolen tank - all of which Clay knows nothing about, so don't bother asking)  
  
Roque seems to actually like the kid. Or he tolerates him exceptionally well. It's hard to tell with Roque, but Jensen is suspiciously free of knife holes so Clay figures something has been worked out between the two and chalks it up as a win.  
  
And Cougar. Well, Jensen and Cougar get drunk the first weekend. Then they spend most of their first official mission talking, well, Jensen talks about four times as much as Cougar, but the sniper actually plays along with him, and when their first big leave comes up Cougar flies off to Mexico, like he always does, but this time Jensen follows him like a little stray puppy.  
  
They come back three weeks later, Cougar's a little darker and actually looks a little relaxed. Jensen's an interesting shade of red, has a black eye, tells increasingly wild stories about accidentally insulting people's mothers while misusing the word 'cheese' and is still following Cougar around like a pup.  
  
  
  
  
 _I should stop this thing_ , he thinks when Cougar laughs at something Jensen is saying to him and Pooch nearly kills them all by swerving off the berm at a break-neck speed.  
  
It's their second mission since they added the loud (clothing, words, personality) hacker to the team but it's the first time any of them have heard Cougar spontaneously break into loud laughter.  
  
When they realise they aren't going to die (Pooch's driving skills are not to be scoffed at - even if it's his fault they might be crashing) Cougar's laugh turns into the quiet chuckle they're all used to, Jensen cackles in a decidedly juvenile manner, Roque hits Pooch's shoulder harder than necessary and Pooch sheepishly looks at everyone and tells Cougar off for startling the shit out of him.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _I should stop this thing_ , he thinks when he finds them knocking over furniture wrestling, while Jensen yells in spectacularly terrible Spanish.  
  
Pooch catches sight of the two, Jensen's yelling " _El, elaaah, aah, rom-per-se el_...? Fuck I can't, I don't remember!" while Cougar sits on his back and twists his arm, all Pooch does is laugh and enquire about whether or not Jensen has a safeword.  
  
(it's _Quesa._. Wait. No, _Queso_!)  
  
Clay lets it slide because Jensen's Spanish is terrible, Cougar's teaching tactics are surprisingly effective and mainly because he can't think how to word his order for them to stop.  
  
  
  
He does get Pooch alone to bitch about it though  
  
"They're making googly eyes at each other."  
  
Clay is pretty sure he shouldn't have started his argument with the term 'googly eyes'.  
  
"Colonel, you could say you and Roque do that."  
  
"What? No!"  
  
"Where's Roque right now?"  
  
Clay doesn't even have to think about it. "In the gym, we'll probably be sparring in an hour or two."  
  
"See? Googly eyes!"  
  
"That's different, he's my SIC." Somehow Clay is on the defensive. How the hell did his calm sensible argument turn to this?  
  
" _GOOGLY EYES!_ " Pooch shouts, actually raising his hands in the air like he's a one man mexican wave, and walks off cackling to himself.  
  
That's it. Clay is putting 'googly eyes' on the list of words they're not allowed to use anymore. Right below BFF.  
  
  
  
  
  
Jensen and Cougar go missing in Georgia and turn up a month later in a maximum-security prison. Clay moves heaven and hell (and uses the dirty emails of a senator and calls in every fucking favour he's ever accumulated) but it's still another month before the paperwork comes through for an exchange.  
  
 _I should've stopped this thing_ , he thinks for the barest second when the cell door opens.  
  
The cell is dark and Jensen's crouched over something lying in the floor.  
  
 _jesus_  
  
Clay realises it's Cougar on the ground as Jensen bolts upright, holding himself in a loose stance, palms upraised in the universal lie of 'I'm harmless'.  
  
He's blinking at the corridor light and babbling in a low pleading voice.  
  
"Listen, I know I was shouting a lot, I was very noisy, but my buddy, there's something wrong with him. He's sick, or something. He's all feverish and hot, and I, I swear this isn't a trap, he won't wake up. You gotta take him to a hospital, fix him up. I swear, I'll. I'll _behave_ " - He says the word like its the worst thing he's ever said - "Just. Just let him get better, okay?"  
  
The guard enters the room and Clay feels the bitter feeling of pride mixing with shame, that they've made all the guards jumpy of them, that they've held strong, that he's let them stay here for so long - admittedly, he's been as quick as he possibly could, but it's not been fucking quick enough.  
  
A single day would not have been quick enough.  
  
Jensen's body language subtly changes as they come closer, from loose non-threatening to preparing to lash out at the slightest provocation. Clay can't quite figure out why Jensen's so jumpy with Clay here, but as the hacker starts talking again - hands raising up slowly as he backs up - Clay realises he's lost his glasses. Making him effectively blind.  
  
 _mother fuckers_  
  
"It's okay, I'm just backing up against the wall, see? Out of the way, see my hands? I'm not trying anything, just help him. Please?"  
  
"Jensen."  
  
"Colonel?" He squints at them, as if he looks hard enough one of the blobs in front of him is going to suddenly shout BEHOLD! YOUR COLONEL! "What's going on, Colonel."  
  
"Prisoner exchange." Because, they've got an audience, and at it's barest minimum, that's what this is.  
  
Jensen obviously gets it because he swallows and looks like he wants to ask the going price for two non existent combatants in a country they're not supposed to be in.  
  
Clay's not ready to discuss prices, or make jokes, not when there's a prison guard who is eagerly listening to their exchange, but more importantly Cougar hasn't fucking moved since he got here.  
  
"Does this mean I get my glasses back now?" He says it lightly, picking the 'make light of it' way, because that's what Jensen does.  
  
"You _took_  his glasses?" _Goddammit_ , Clay had figured on Jensen losing them while being captured, he whirls on the guard, who stammers,  
  
"He stabbed a guard with them! We had to!"  
  
There's a snort from the corner of the cell.  
  
"Guy had grabby hands." It's said in the fakest light voice Clay's ever heard and Jensen does a little duck and hop as he speaks, like he's expecting to have to dodge an unseen blow.  
  
The guard smiles a watery smile and Clay thinks about hitting him until he has splinters of the guard's skull in his knuckles.  
  
  
  
  
The flight home is long and quiet, Cougar still hasn't woken up from his surgery and Jensen alternates between pacing up and down the plane and brooding over the unconscious Cougar, sitting next to him, head on the makeshift bed, forehead pushed up against Cougar's shoulder.  
  
If it had been anyone else Clay might've worried about Cougar waking up and trying to kill whoever was touching him - they'd all learned that lesson over the last couple of years - but there was a level of familiarity in the way Jensen rested against Cougar, Clay guessed it wouldn't be the first time the sniper had woken up with Jensen touching him.  
  
Besides, Clay wasn't sure he'd be able to tear the hacker away without a serious and unnecessary fight.  
  
  
  
  
  
On leave they disappear into South America, far more thoroughly than ever before. Clay thinks _fuck this thing, I'm just going to kill them_.  
  
He spends the week after they're supposed to be back calling every south-of-the-border contact he has. (and no, he won't admit to ringing a random number in Sao Paulo and asking if they had two complete fuckheads in the house)  
  
He leaves increasingly profane messages on both of their phones. (wherever the fuck you are, you fucks are fucking late, for fuck's sake.)  
  
And he definitely isn't worrying. Except that he is.  
  
Pooch is the only one not freaking out, he just laughs softly and says ' _They're on island time, man, probably don't even know what day it is_ ', and okay, Pooch is the only one of them that has actually been on one of their trips, so he probably knows best. Clay still sees him checking his phone when he thinks no ones watching.  
  
Roque says he doesn't care. (Well, he actually says ' _f_ _uck them_.') But from the looks of the techs in command have been giving him, Roque's spent a lot of his 'free' time ~~threatening~~  harassing the button pushers into discreetly finding where the fuck their two missing members are.  
  
They've only just been released from hospital - Clay's pretty sure it was all above board, the amount of fucking times that Jensen's screwed with his charts and talked his doctors into letting him go early has made Clay super fastidious about checking those sorts of things.  
  
He should've made them stay in the country, maybe just cuffed them to their bunks.  
  
They had seemed okay, head-wise, and it had seemed a great idea to let them go. They had the leave coming and no one really wanted to throw them straight back into work.  
  
Now Clay wondered whether he wanted them to be okay because it was more _convenient_.  
  
He's still beating himself up about it (arguing about what he would've done differently, he maybe even promised not to date crazy women anymore - although many would argue that the women he dates aren't crazy when he starts dating them - plus he's met a pretty nice EOD Specialist named Emma who seems really stable, so maybe the promise was moot anyway) when they walk in.  
  
Bags slung over their shoulders, Jensen attempting to talk while laughing. They look good, healthy, Clay thinks, comparing them to the image of them from before. Jensen unnaturally still, Cougar stoking a fire of anger in him, the kind of rage that comes from not being at fault for what happened but still feeling fucking guilty for it.  
  
Clay lets them put their bags down before walking over and tearing them both new ones. They both listen, look suitably chastised, nod in all the right places but neither say a word. Clay worries that it's too early and wonders if he should send them back until Jensen and Cougar come back.  
  
A week later a remix of all the messages he left on Jensen's phone goes around the base. Everywhere Clay goes, his voice is some cherry's ringtone or being used in cadence.  
  
When Clay is finished killing them, he's going to be really proud.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The first time Clay thinks , _maybe this thing isn't so bad_  comes after one of their shitty jobs. One of those 'simple in and out' jobs that turn into a clusterfuck that everyone feels bad about. They've been holed up in a tiny room on base, it's dirty but so are they, and everyone's sacked out on the little space they've been given. Bone tired and on edge.  
  
They get maybe an hour and a half before Cougar's breath picks up, the room's tiny, they're practically on top of each other and are all annoyingly attuned to each other.  
  
All of them had nightmares, terrors, whatever-the-fuck you wanted to call them, and while Roque's rare ones tended to make any witnesses want to change their names and flee the country, since Georgia especially, Cougar's just happened to be the worst and most frequent.  
  
He'd been waking up every hour or so, not yelling or screaming, just a sharp intake of breath, fast panting as he came down from whatever hell his mind had created for him and then finally a grunt of annoyance, an almost apology for something none of them will mention.  
  
Finally the sniper, awake again after a pitiful twenty minutes, started to get up - he'd skulk around the barracks and scare the living daylights out of whoever was on night watch. In the morning he'd be tired (so fucking exhausted) but at least he wouldn't have that paranoid look of someone being hunted.

Just as he flipped his covers aside Jensen rolls over - eyes still closed he could almost be still asleep - and reaches out a hand to stop him.  
  
Cougar stills and the hacker starts talking.  
  
At first he doesn't seem to be talking about anything particular, just throwing words together in the vaguest semblance of sentences. But then, all of them 'asleep' but listening in the pitch black, his low, quiet voice starts painting a picture of a beach that he and Cougar had apparently been to.  
  
Shining white sand and the rolling waves that soaked lazily into it, the clear ocean that slowly changed into the brightest of blues as it stretched away from the coast.  
  
He talks for ages, using every word he has to describe the air (so drenched in sun you could almost taste summer on the wind),  
  
the family with the chubby, laughing baby (bright pink ice-cream cones, little hands leaving sticky prints across the white beach towel as the mother and father laughed and gently wiped dribbling ice-cream away with soft wet tissues),  
  
the elaborate sand castles (wet sand dribbled into tall spires that the waves couldn’t reach)  
  
made by the girls in blue bikinis (silly shaped sunglasses perched on the ends on their noses, sand between their fingers as they moulded the sand into something grander),  
  
wide smiled, acne faced boys (flexing their skinny arms for the girls and throwing handfuls of colourful - red - pink - purple - peach - shells at each other.)  
  
He must have stopped sometime, because when Clay wakes the kid is asleep, half out of his sleeping bag stretched across the space between him and Cougar, but he doesn't remember hearing him go silent.  
  
Though he'd never admit it (actually he'd rather cut out his tongue than admit it _thankyou very much_ ) he's never slept so well. It was amazing how relaxed, _unwound_ , he was after a night's sleep, dreaming of clean beaches and summer afternoons.  
  
He had had to stop himself from fucking _whistling_  as he made coffee in the dark early hours of the next morning.  
  
Roque comes in as the kettle boils and flicks itself off; the fucker seems positively fucking _cheerful_. Clay, never one to trust a book by it's cover, eyes him warily and keeps him in his peripheral the whole time.  
  
He was _smiling_.  
  
It's a small, barely noticeable lift to the corners of his mouth, but it was a fucking smile and Clay kind of wondered if today was the day that Roque had decided to finally make good on his many threats to kill them all.  
  
Roque smiling at any time was disconcerting, Roque smiling before the sun was even up? That shit was downright all kinds of scary.  
  
"You ever think about those two?" Clay asks, not only because he really, _really_  wants to know what Roque's take on the whole thing is, but also because if the disturbingly smiling Roque was distracted maybe they all miss out on knife wounds.  
  
Roque raises an eyebrow and pretends to have no idea what the Colonel is talking about.

  
So Clay has to tell him about the 'Spanish lesson', and he may or may not have used the words 'touching each other in a very touchy manner'.  
  
Roque snorts into his coffee cup and gives Clay his patented bored, dead-eye look.  
  
"What, were their cocks out?"  
  
Clay chokes on his coffee and shakes his head as he tries not let scalding hot beverage come out of his nose - really, by now, he should fucking know better than to ask Roque's advice on shit like this.  
  
"Did you catch them indulging in a little sweet blue on blue action?"  
  
Clay shakes his head. No, they were fully clothed, no, no sweet friendly fire - god he is going have that fucking mental image in his head every time blue on blue incidents happen.  
  
"What's your fucking problem then?"  
  
And what's more interesting than Roque's apparent acceptance of his teammates relationship is the fact that Clay can't answer that question.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It seems impossible, but over the last year and a half that he's been properly noticing _his thing_ , it's never come up in conversations between him and either his sniper or his hacker.  
  
That winning streak of faux ignorance comes to a crashing halt after Clay has half carried Jensen for most of a mile over what must be the most fucking deserted farmland in the world. The kid's spitting out bits off shattered teeth between the breaks of his colourful rant.  
  
(fucking _teeth_ , sharp little white bits in the blood that keeps dribbling down his chin every time he opens his mouth)  
  
His current tangent seems to be about the sniper, mostly.  
  
"God, have you ever noticed how fucking pissed he gets, at _me_? Like it's my fucking fault people like to hit me in the face. Ok, maybe it might be. But they're bad guys, bad baddies, of course they're going to hit someone. Am I supposed to let them hit him? You should've seen him the first time I pissed off this big Mexican dude, hah, in my defense, my spanish isn't all kinds of awesome. Unless we're insulting and swearing, in which case,  <I> _champion </I>_! But yeah, he got all mean. And pissy. He was like a big girl. _Don't be so mouthy, don't piss off the big mexican man, don't steal my hat, I'm having my period!_  Hah. Cougar would be a totes hot chick. Cowboy hats, man. Can't ever deny a cowboy hat. You know what his problem is? With me, I mean, not with his hat, his hat is a whole 'nother kettle of fish."  
  
Clay _really_  wants to put the breaks on this topic, hell, this whole conversation, such as it is, really really is going in a direction that he's pretty sure he won't be able to magically unhear when they finally meet up with the rest of the team.  
  
But every time Jensen shuts up he starts drifting into unconsciousness, which is not only really not good for the hacker and all the blows to the head he's collected tonight, but Clay's pretty sure if Jensen goes limp they're both going to drop to the ground and stay there.  
  
He's really fucking heavy as it is and while Jensen's technically in a worse state, Clay's not really up to dragging both their asses to the secondary rendezvous.  
  
So he listens, occasionally makes a grunt sound like his contributing to the conversation and focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.  
  
"We're the same people. Person. Type of peoples. 'S why we get along so well. Coz we're scared, you know?"  
  
Ok, so not where Clay thought it was going.  
  
"Cougar's scared, is he?"  
  
"Course. You gotta be. Do what we do. How we do it." He goes silent for a bit, sinking deeper into Clay's grip, then pulls up, stopping and grabbing at Clay so they're eye to eye.  
  
"We should all be scared of ourselves, Colonel."  
  
Through seriously cracked glasses Jensen looks him in the eye with most focus he's had since they started hitting him, and Clay actually feels a little unsettled.  
  
Then the moment passes, Jensen sags back to throw up and Clay plans to dismiss it all as a delusion brought on by concussion.  
  
  
  
  
Clay gets his time with Cougar not long after they get back. Jensen's been wheeled off to somewhere in this ass fuck country that has a decent MRI,  
  
(he had pumped his fist in the air and shouted VIVA LA DENTIST!)  
  
and Clay is watching Cougar slowly stitch up the hole in his calf.  
  
He watches those hands, moving steadily, gently and thinks about how many people they've killed.  
  
Clay doesn't often think about things like that, it's not that he thinks that they're all baby killing mercenaries, but nor is he naive enough to believe that they're always killing The Bad Guys.  
  
 _"Do what we do. How we do it."_  
  
Cougar has nightmares. Horrible recurring ones that leave him exhausted and haunted.  
  
Clay has no doubt that all the shit that Cougar's seen through the scope of his rifle has no doubt left an unseen stain on his mind.  
  
He's read through the lines of the vaguely worded past reports to know that before being a Loser the sniper had been co-opted into some seriously shady company dealings.  
  
The CIA loved using the lethal quiet types that sniper school pumped out, used them hard and without regard.  
  
For all his not thinking about _this thing_ , Clay's kind of been wondering what Cougar got out of it. He doesn’t want to speak ill of the brain injured but Jensen didn't really engender a 'let's be BFF's and do _everything_  together' sort of mutual feeling.  
  
(In fact, next time Clay sees Jensen he's going to hit him over the head because in no way should a colonel <I> _ever </I>_ think, say or comprehend the term BFF)  
  
But watching Cougar, who hasn't said a word since Pooch drove off with Jensen, Clay begins to wonders what Jensen gets out of whatever the two of them have.  
  
Jensen's a tactile person, likes to touch everything, gets up in everyone's personal space  
  
(One of the few reports that had managed to not suspiciously disappear had read 'This man has no sense of personal space or private boundaries' - Clay had quoted that to the hacker when he had first called him to attention, poking him hard in the chest and telling him that in no way was Clay to ever find out what that meant)  
  
Cougar's more focused inwards and even now, sewing up Clay's leg - an action that was quite intimate when you thought about it - he's barely touching the colonel, and even those little touches are clinical and methodical.  
  
Cougar looks up at him, as if Clay's thinking too loud.  
  
"He'll be okay." Clay says, partly because it's reassuring, and colonel-y, and _of course_  Jensen's going to be okay, but mostly because he can't think of anything else to say.  
  
The sniper's head dips, eyes disappearing under the brim of his hat. It's a nod, probably agreeing with him, Jensen would be fine, but it also says Jensen would be fine, because I _need_ him to be okay.  
  
Turns out Cougar was as much of an eloquent motherfucker as Jensen was.  
  
Clay doesn't want to get all sappy and risk his dick shrivelling up and him becoming a massive fucking girl, but he does indulge in a little thinking about maybe, if the two of them are _together_  together, despite all their differences and clashes then perhaps _this thing_  was something that Clay was going to be okay with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Santa Maria happens and Clay doesn't think much about anything.

Then Santa Maria happens and Clay doesn't think much about anything.  
  
They're too far away to do anything but listen to the distant gunfire and the occasional scream that gets picked up by the wind and brought to their position.  
  
When the orders to stand down comes through the radio, Jensen had screamed profanities back until Clay had had to literally pull him off it.   
  
The tech breathed, quick and hard gasps, shivering with adrenaline and something that might be rage. For a moment, Clay thinks Jensen's going to turn his wrath on Clay, but instead he just shakes his head,  
  
"This ain't right, Colonel."  
  
and wonders off to sink against a tree trunk, glaring silently at everything.   
  
The rest of the team pretty much follow suit, silently trapped with their own thoughts and the soundtrack of far away (but not far enough) mass murder.  
  
  
  
To make matters worse, they're ordered to rendezvous with the ParSec contingent later that week.  
  
Pooch groaned in that long suffering way, the I-am-not-surprised-but-am-in-no-way-down-with-this-shit kind of way.  
  
Roque pulled out his biggest knife and pretended that it needed sharpening.  
  
Cougar checked the sights on his rifle with a jaw clenched so tight Clay expected to hear teeth cracking.   
  
Jensen had done that weird thing he did sometimes - stopped talking and basically shut down - picked a spot in trees and stared at it. His nose wrinkled a little in disgust when Clay made the announcement but other that, he doesn't move.  
  
Clay, well Clay is angry. He fucking hates being put in this position, and he hates more than anything that he has to play _nice_ with those fuckers.  
  
And _of course,_ it doesn't go well. The ParSec jerks are still fucking hopped up from slaughtering civilians, so when they get to the clearing and Jensen mutters to Pooch - "Hola assholes" - one of them opens fire.  
  
There's a grunt of pain and then everyone is pointing their guns at everybody else.   
  
Except for Cougar, who studies them through his scope for a millisecond and then lets the SR-25 drop back on her strap.  
  
Hands free, he leaps at the guy with the itchy trigger finger.  
  
Roque waits until he's broken the guy's jaw before pulling him off.  
  
He stands shivering with rage, like he's about to throw himself at them again.   
  
Clay places himself between the sniper and the targets. Cougar's eyes snap to Clay's, and okay, he's totally pissed and Clay really hopes that he hasn't royally screwed this up.   
  
Cougar looks hard at the guy in lead of the ParSec lot. Clay hopes that he sleeps with a gun, because the sniper looks like he's marking him for later, and an angry, vindictive Cougar was off the fucking scales dangerous.  
  
"Go check on Jensen." He orders, because _goddamn it_ the kid's been making I'm-in-pain noises and Cougar hasn't even glanced in his direction.   
  
Cougar looks away as if he's just realised the same thing, then takes one last long look at the ParSec guys and growls in disgust. He stalks over to where Pooch is trying to get Jensen to stay still long enough to deal with the hole in him. It isn't serious, a through and through, barely under the skin in the junction between his neck and shoulder.   
  
Jensen's bitching in an extremely annoyed voice, one hand pressing over the holes. As the sniper approaches he tries to dodge Pooch's attempts to remove his hand and to congratulate Cougar on his fine hand to hand at the same time.  
  
Blood is seeping between tightly gripped fingers and he grins in a twisted, bitter way. Clay always forgets how fucking sharp Jensen can be, but he gets a fast reminder when the tech opens his mouth and yells.  
  
"Do I look like a fucking innocent woman or child to you?!"  
  
Clay winces and just wants today to be over because _nothing_ is going to make it all right.  
  
  
  
  
Cougar slips off to the international airport pretty much as soon as they touch ground on base. Hat pulled low, duffle full of mostly dirty clothes slung over his shoulder.  
  
Jensen watches his retreating back for a moment, then starts talking brightly about visiting his sister and his niece.   
  
Especially his niece. She's starting kindergarten soon, and Jensen's going to teach her knife skills. Or maybe he should just start with plastic spork skills, Pooch suggests and Clay stops listening.  
  
When Clay comes back, he's a little surprised that he's not alone in their barracks. From the look of all the energy drink cans and the way everyone on base gets wild eyed and silent at the mention of their barracks, Clay can't be sure how long Jensen's been cooped up inside, but he bet it's been a while.  
  
He's got his laptop on his bunk, dark circles under his eyes, and Clay has to wonder how long the kid's been awake for.   
  
Clay's not good at these talks. He's still trying to work out how to word it when he sits on the bunk next to Jensen's. It's usually Cougar's, but today it's covered in wires and electrical equipment.  
  
Clay stares at the _stuff_ , distracted, it's all starting to look very familiar.   
  
"Is that our comms equipment?"   
  
Jensen looks up innocently, and then looks just plain shifty.   
  
"Uhh."  
  
"Do we need to have another talk about the destruction of army hardware?"  
  
"We don't have to. I don't think we do. I was just fixing it. Making improvements. More of an upgrade, really." He continues to babble on the defensive and Clay frowns at the mess.  
  
"Where are the rest of them?" And he really hopes the answer is _because I kept one intact_.  
  
"That's all of them. There's definitely none anywhere else."  
  
Clay looks at him. Uses his I-see-through-your-bullshit look,  
  
"Okay. But in my defence, I had to field test it. And Blaine’s team was doing some sort of pack animal exercise in the hills and. Well. It's on a mule."  
  
"A mule?" Okay, yeah, Clay is going to add this conversation to the never-repeat list.  
  
"I know where it is though! Or, well. I will, if. _WHEN_ I find the right frequency."  
  
"A mule?" Clay repeats it again because he's pretty sure something's got to make sense soon.  
  
"Yeah, you can have a listen if you'd like." He holds up the headset like Clay really wants to listen to whatever noises mules might make. "I have no doubt that Charlie stuck it around the thing's neck for extra giggles. Weird mother fucker."  
  
Clay leaves him be and definitely doesn't say _takes one to know one_. He'll have a serious talk with Jensen one day. Just not today. Maybe he'd talk to Cougar first.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Santa Maria changes everything. Screws up the teams dynamic.  
  
They all change in little ways, ways that no one would really notice - except they live in each other's pockets for weeks on end - and you got to know your fellow man's habits and quirks pretty damned well by the end.  
  
Clay knows he's gotten harsher. Hears it in his voice when he gives orders, feels it in his veins when dealing with command and knows it in the way he questions everything brass throws at him.  
  
Roque gets grumpier, if that's even fucking possible. Or maybe, it's more discontent. He and Clay have worked together for years, now it seems that every second moment they're not just disagreeing on a course of action, but fucking _arguing_. Arguing to the point where it just gets nasty. And personal.  
  
Pooch's good, teddy-bear side turns into a question-every-plan-and-find-flaws-in-every-mission side. When he's not doing that he fiddles with his wedding ring and all Clay wants to do is send him home - not because of the questioning or flaw finding (it's actually surprising how much Pooch can find wrong with a plan) but because of all them Pooch is probably the only one that could function in the real world.   
  
Jensen doesn't change. He's loud, laughs at inappropriate times and everything's okay. Only his loudness has a nervous skittish edge to it, like he's worried that if he shuts up someone will hear something they don't want to acknowledge. His laughter almost turns hysterical and the only one he's fooled with his 'everything's okay' is himself.  
  
Cougar gets real quiet, quieter. Smiles less, laughs even less. That's a fairly mild change, Clay figured, it wasn't as if Cougar was the most extroverted person to begin with, but the most alarming change is amount of going off mission he does. He comes back after hours of no contact, no apologies, no excuses, just slinks back in like the wild animal he's named for. Clay yells at him 'til he feels there’s no oxygen left in his body, but it seems like the words just wash over the sniper who waits patiently for him to finish before pulling his hat low and feigning sleep.   
  
Then there was that month they spent working on and off with ParSec in the sand. Officially Cougar's accuracy rate dropped, _unavoidable_ and _accidental_ blue on blue incidents. Secretly Clay figures Cougar's accuracy sits at the alarming and scary one hundred per cent.  
  
  
Clay pulls him aside at the end of that month, hands gripping his fatigues tight, pulling them nose to nose.  
  
"Get your fucking head in the game."   
  
He can't tell whether he's more pissed off at Cougar's dicking around or the fact that he's been reduced to sporting analogies. He fucking _hates_ sporting analogies.  
  
  
  
  
Clay's dealing with it. Dealing with the changes in his unit, feeling like they're all new to each other all over again.   
  
Then Cougar goes off mission in San Salvador.  
  
They're hunting a cartel lackey, one of those really nice guys who is in charge of setting up drug processing in remote villages and to hell with the people who actually live there. While they're sitting practically on top of him, just waiting for the sweet green light, they're ordered to pull back until some political bullshit is dealt with.  
  
Cougar goes off mission,   
  
(well, Clay would admit it was really _on_ an offed mission but he's too busy swearing up a storm on the comms to laugh at the irony)  
  
and an hour later he contacts them briefly, a short static-y "Jensen. _Problema_." And silence.  
  
  
  
  
It's only chance that Pooch and Jensen find where he is. (Jensen actually says it's not chance, that the static on the comms was created by a specific interference, and after narrowing it down, there was really only a few places he could be. Random chance, Clay calls it. Statistical surety, Jensen claims in that overly confident voice that usually means I-Am-Flying-By-The-Seat-Of-My-Pants.)  
  
And it's pure luck that the two of them get him out of there.   
  
When the three of them come back Jensen and Cougar are bruised and bloodied. Pooch looks like someone stole Christmas. For ever.  
  
Roque wraps tape around Cougar's broken fingers, carefully avoiding the missing nails whilst bitching - he'd call it reprimanding but it's really not - about how fucking annoying it is to have to play hide-and-go-fucking-seek in a city.   
  
Jensen stands to the side, by himself, rubbing at the side of his head and muttering at varying volumes. From the look of the blood that's leaked from his ear and the powder burn across his cheek, Clay can guess why his hacker is now half deaf and glaring at Cougar.  
  
The sniper has a bloodied and broken nose and skinned knuckles. Jensen has bloody fists and a black eye.  
  
Clay corners Pooch, who for once is as fucking unintelligible as everyone else.  
  
"Fuck it, I think Roque is the cuddly one." He says as Clay walks up.   
  
Jensen wouldn't win in a fair fight against Cougar. Clay knows this. He also knows that no one ever passed Selection by fighting fair.  
  
"It was like watching Care Bears fight to the death." Pooch says with a look of pure desolation. "Those two? They hate happiness."  
  
  
  
This time, when they get back to base, when Cougar walks off like he never wants to see any of them ever again, Jensen doesn't even look in his direction.   
  
He doesn't bother to pretend he's going to do anything but lock himself up with his computer for the next couple of weeks either.


	3. Chapter 3

They're back for three days before Jensen speaks to Cougar.  
  
He's been typing away since Clay got back and except for occasional single syllable acknowledgements if someone _other than Cougar_ spoke to him, and the sporadic cheer of I AM KING OF THE MACHINES!, he hasn't really interacted with any of them.  
  
He has no idea what Jensen's doing with it, whenever he looks over the hacker's shoulder the screen is just line after line of coding that may as well be gibberish.  
  
Clay supposes he should be happy that, the time, at least their equipment seems to be in one piece and Clay didn't have to swim through a sea of energy drink cans to get to his gear.  
  
It's early afternoon, the summer sun sits at it's hottest and it's been too long since they tried to interact whilst _not_ being shot at. In truth, they're all praying for the call out.  
  
Cougar's on his bunk, next to Jensen's more out habit than choice now, disassembling his rifle for cleaning. Again. Clay would ask why he has to clean it _before_ he uses it but his mama didn't raise the type of fool that questions snipers on their weapons.  
  
Jensen types in a series of keyboard smashes with an air of finality and then triumphantly yells, "HAH!"  
  
There's silence for a moment as he goes over whatever he's doing, then he swings his legs off the side of his bunk and turns to Cougar, bare knees brush against camo-covered ones. (and Clay really has to have another chat about the dress code and how wearing only boxers, with pirates demanding booty on them, isn't appropriate work wear)  
  
Jensen spins the computer on his lap, so it faces Cougar and says,  
  
"This look simple enough for an idiot to use?"  
  
Clay, Roque and Pooch freeze, and then look at each other to confirm that they all just heard Jensen call a sniper, with a loaded rifle, an idiot. Cougar ignores them and studies the screen in front of him.  
  
"See, I was thinking, we needed someway to track each other if we get separated in the field. I figured we hook it up to our throat mikes, or something. But then I thought that's all great and dandy if I'm using the computer with my skillz." - Clay can hear the 'z' - "But what if a _complete fucking moron_ is in front of it? Disaster! So, see? It's all prompted commands?"  
  
"Yes." Cougar taps something on the screen. "What's this?"  
  
"Well, I had to test it. I mean I tried the beta version of this out on mules, heh _mules_ , but I wanted to double check my experiment. It's very sciencey, all this double checking."  
  
"Is this my bunk?"  
  
"Of course not. That'd be silly. Bunks don't move."  
  
There’s silence. Clay kind of hates that he can see where this is going, a few years ago he'd _never_ have guessed.  
  
"Okaaay. I'm not saying that I've LoJacked you. Let's just say, at this precise moment, you're very trackable by satellite."  
  
"Have you _bugged_ me?" Somehow, and Clay is not admitting to being envious of Cougar's skill, the sniper is putting his rifle back together, watching the screen and managing to convey that he's a little put out by being bugged all at the same time.  
  
"NO! Okay, yes! Please stop stripping. You're not going to find it, it isn't _on_ you. You might say you could've eaten it with breakfast, SO really, you've only been trackable since this morning, not so bad really. And, I only did that, because I knew you'd be pissed if I fiddled with your rifle."  
  
There's logic in his crazy.  
  
Clay manages to keep a straight face, barely, but Pooch and Roque don't even bother.  
  
Roque leans back against the wall and throws his head back in booming laughter.  
  
Pooch is mostly on the floor, laughing, then trying to breathe, and then laughing all over again.  
  
"So this yellow dot is me?" Clay thinks it's a little unfair that Cougar can use his sniper training to ignore them right now.  
  
"It's gold, but yeah. Roque and Pooch are going to be pink. Very girly, very princess-y shades of pink."   
  
"Hmm." Is all Cougar says and collects his rifle and heads out.  
  
"You want a spotter? And I'm still super angry with you."  
  
"Si." Jensen folds up the laptop and jogs to catch up with Cougar.  
  
Clay blinks. Neither of them has said 'I'm Sorry', no 'I love you', no 'I forgive you even if you are an enormous douchebag', but somehow they've just made up.  
  
Clay decides it's the manliest fucking thing he's ever seen (them handing each other cold beers couldn't make manlier), and if he were _Jensen_ , the dramatic, type he'd be wiping a single pride filled tear away.   
  
  
  
  
  
They haven't completely made up, _this thing_ is re-taking it's baby steps. Although maybe, when Clay thinks about it, _maybe_ the two of them had skipped this awkward not-quite-sure-how-the-other-one-will-react stage the first time around and this was perhaps a correction of that.   
  
They aren't avoiding or snapping at each other, so as far as Clay is concerned, it's a fucking improvement.   
  
  
Then they get deployed to Honduras and everything gets fucked up.  
  
  
It starts with Pooch, shot in the back while trying to manoeuvre around the general's men. But it's okay because it doesn't hit anything vitalish. (the 'ish' is for the touch and go moment on the medivac which Clay prefers to think of as Pooch just being dramatic)  
  
Then Jensen breaks his leg, gets taken prisoner and Cougar and Clay have to attack a well hidden, well guarded hideout to get him back.  
  
  
The fact that it was Cougar with him instead of Roque is a sore point. The sniper had flat out refused to be the one that stayed with Pooch - _no offense, Pooch_ \- and when Clay had opened his mouth to order him to remain, Cougar had shot him a hard look and asked,  
  
"Are we really going to argue about this, Colonel?"  
  
Like Clay's the unreasonable one.   
  
It's the first time in a long time that Cougar's gone out of his way to be apart of the team, if Clay wasn't so goddamned _angry_ , he'd maybe feel a little gleeful at getting Cougar back.   
  
  
And then everyone gets hurt.  
  
  
Well, most of them. Roque claims his ripped fingernail totally counts. Clay says ' _No. No it really doesn't._ ' Cougar says nothing, though Clay's pretty sure he saw him roll his eyes. Pooch says he didn't see the horrific wound when it was done so he can't in good conscience weigh in on the situation. Jensen says ' _Hell yeah! I hate it when it tears in the corner and stings like a mother fucker, and you catch it on every goddamned thing._ '  
  
Clay gets hits just above the knee and Cougar takes a round just below his as they're loading Pooch and Jensen on the chopper.   
  
But it's Jensen that has the longest list of shit that fucking hurts.  
  
Broken tibia, an almost broken nose ( _tell me it's not broken! I'm too delicate to pull off the broken nose look!_ ), a hand full of broken fingers with a bonus fractured wrist for shits and giggles and to finish it off, uneven pupils caused by a deep bullet furrow that goes from his temple to just behind his ear where Cougar finds a bullet just barely beneath the skin.   
  
  
Clay never really finds out what happened between Jensen breaking his leg falling down an unmapped ravine - _bad intelligence, I am truly shocked!_ – and when Cougar and Clay find him again.  
  
Jensen never really says anything about it, but the facts, as Clay knows, are these.  
  
1\. Jensen beats a deposed general to death with his own gun.  
  
2\. He refuses to let go of said gun.  
  
3\. They only heard one side of the conversation between Jensen and the General, and it's a long accepted fact that Jensen rarely stays on topic, but there's a ominous mention of Deer Hunter that worries everyone.  
  
4\. Jensen flinches at the sound of Cougar reloading his rifle as Clay calls in their co-ordinates.   
  
5\. He spends the chopper ride home swinging out the revolver's cylinder, spinning it - _spin_ \- and snapping it closed - _click_ \- and swinging it out and spinning it again.  
  
 _spin, click, spin, click_  
  
Clay's not great at the whole talking through your issues thing, and from the way Jensen's avoiding eye contact with everyone, he's not too keen on the idea either. So Clay let's Cougar deal with it.  
  
The sniper sits next to Jensen and bumps his uninjured knee against Jensen's every time he starts spinning the revolver's barrel. It distracts the hacker makes him look up, give a weak smile and forget everything for a moment.  
  
  
They cover the chopper's floor with blood and empty shells.


	4. Chapter 4

They wake up in Guam Memorial Hospital, and for once it looks like the army has sprung them a private room. Admittedly, they've all been shoved into the same room, extra beds wheeled into the tiny square, but it's better than the times Clay had woken up on a make shift stretcher aboard a C-140, attached to medical equipment that looked like it had been MacGuyver'd together from duct tape and random items found in the canteen.   
  
Roque visits, once is his limit for visiting the infirm, while they're all asleep he leaves a half empty bottle of scotch on the floor next to Clay's bed. From what Clay can tell, he's spending his days of not being injured in a bar next to the ocean.  
  
Pooch is the last to wake up. He groans, blinks at the ceiling and then rolls over to look at Clay.  
  
"Everyone okay?"  
  
Clay grunts. It means yes, everyone's dandy, but Pooch obviously reads something more in it because he gingerly moves so he can see the rooms other occupants.   
  
Cougar's asleep, sprawled face down across his bed. He looks fine, hatless, but fine.  
  
Jensen's staring at the ceiling. It took Clay awhile to realise that he was awake, and it takes Pooch sometime as well. He's so damned _quiet_ and _still_. Clay's tried talking to him. Jensen answers everything he asks, but as soon as Clay stops talking, Jensen just shuts down again. He didn't even make a comment when Cougar turned Jensen's IV stand into a hat stand.  
  
"How ya doin, kid?" Pooch asks, he almost sounds hesitant.  
  
"I'm good," Jensen answers. He doesn't sound good, just like he's going through the motions.   
  
Pooch frowns and tries to strike up a conversation, but the kid just keeps up with his short answers; eventually frustration and fatigue make Pooch stop.   
  
Clay takes one look at Pooch and can see him already planning his next stage of attack.  
  
  
  
It's two days later and Clay is trying to sleep when Pooch decides to make his move. He's got cheap scotch sitting pleasantly in his belly and with his face buried deep in his pillow he can pretend it's dark and quiet. Okay not quiet, because there's this sound.  
  
It's the sound of a magazine flying across the room towards Jensen.   
  
The magazine hits him in the face and apparently Jensen's having an _awesome_ reaction to the drugs they've switched him onto because he just smiles widely as Pooch starts telling him off.  
  
"I knew it was you man. I can't fucking believe it."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You're a cookie stealer! ' _Oh no, it wasn't me, did you ask Smith from Support? He looks shifty to me_!' Bullshit! Cookie thief!"  
  
"Me?"  
  
" _Our bus driver's a sweet little lady, always gives me cookies._ " Pooch mimics in a surprising good Jensen impersonation. "I don't give you cookies! You steal them when I'm not looking!"  
  
"But they're tasty!" Jensen doesn't even sound a little remorseful. "And you leave them! All alone! They were lonely!"  
  
There's something that sounds suspiciously like a giggle from under the covers on Cougar's bed.  
  
"Shut up and give me my magazine back, Brad and Jen's marriage is on the rocks."  
  
"Oh, say it isn't so!" Jensen frisbees it back, the flimsy pages scrunch as it lands next to Pooch.   
  
  
Clay keeps quiet, Pooch is obviously better at dealing with a moody Jensen than he will ever be.  
  
  
  
  
They heal up, Jensen thinks it's hilarious that three of them are on crutches - it's less funny when Cougar and Clay drop theirs after a week and he still has to have his for _ages_ , but Clay has a good chuckle about it.  
  
Whatever was bothering Jensen seems to have disappeared, which, if Clay wasn't so busy getting everyone back into shape, might've caused him concern. Shit never just _disappeared_. It got pushed aside, buried, hidden, it never just wasn't there one day.   
  
He's picked up a new habit, Clay's not sure what to think of it really. Sometimes he just sits there and stares at the gun in his hand. It takes them awhile to work out that it's the gun from Honduras, That Honduran General's Gun they'll all call it, and when Pooch finds out, he crinkles his nose and says, "Why don’t you get rid of it, man?"  
  
Jensen half smiles and answers vaguely about sentimental value, and later Clay will wish he pushed him on the subject.  
  
It's hard to say if he's lost some of his professionalism, Jensen hadn't exactly been G.I Joe before. So it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what was off with the hacker.  
  
Well. It _was_.  
  
The first time he forgets his gun actually wasn't so bad. They're bugging out of a no-longer-safe house, Jensen had stopped dead, paused in the street as the rest of them looked at him and then ran back to the building. He'd come back a moment later, gun held in the air like he deserved a prize for remembering he was an idiot.  
  
At the time his hands had been full with his computer and tech gear, so Clay had figured it was quite understandable and easy to pass off.  
  
  
The third and fourth time? Not so much.  
  
  
The fifth time is when it all falls apart. It starts with an easy job, (Clay is never going to refer to their jobs as _easy_ , or _simple_ again) and ends with Jensen gutshot in the back of a truck.   
  
Pooch is driving, steady, almost driving slow, trying not to attract any attention while they make they're way back to the rendezvous, back to their medical support.  
  
Clay and Roque do their best to keep the kid from bleeding out.   
  
Cougar holds his head, he keeps wiping the hacker's forehead with his palm, and running his thumb back and forth over the side of his neck.   
  
Clay wants to yell at Jensen for being a fucking idiot, _what kind of soldier forgets his gun?_ ; yell at Cougar; for not coming to them sooner; at all of them for letting it get this bad.   
  
He wants to yell, but he won't because the kid's pale, _pale_ , and in between shivers and chattering teeth keeps whispering, _choking_ 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'  
  
So they all clench their teeth, fake smiles and no one murmurs _you fucking idiot_ to him. And they all hope they can say it to him later.   
  
And they _hope_.  
  
  
  
  
It's months later, months of healing and getting the silent treatment from everyone but Cougar, which, even Clay will admit, is just cruel and unusual. But Jensen's mostly okay, health-wise.   
  
It feels like Santa Maria all over again. Whatever make up the _thing_ between Cougar and Jensen had is severely fucked up. Clay wants put a heavy hand on Jensen's shoulder and tell him to 'Square yourself away'. He wants to grab Cougar and tell him to fucking get over it, but he _can't_.   
  
  
They're doing surveillance, it's not hard work, and they're not expected to do anything but _watch_.   
  
They've been given a house to regroup to every night after surveillance. Jensen takes a quick look at it and then hides in the basement. There are better sounding terms for what the hacker's doing - strategic withdrawal from a hostile environment, tactical stealth placement for self preservation, or the ever practical (and yet still untrue) the cold basement was better for his computer equipment - but hiding is what it is.   
  
He goes down there, and doesn't come back up. He isn't necessary for their surveillance trips. He's got years of dodgy accounting to go through once he breaks into their accounts and to be truthful, he's been making everyone a little nervous.   
  
Cougar puts Jensen's M4 against the wall when they first set up, the butt of it hitting the floor with more force than needed and it's a fuck you, or as close to a fuck you as Cougar is ever likely to give Jensen.   
  
Clay catches sight of the hurt look on Jensen's face and resolves that when they get back, they're all going to sit down and deal with this. Actually _deal_ , not just fucking ignore and blame and assign guilt.   
  
He doesn't get a chance to mention it to anyone. That night, when they're all leaning over the city map, planning out tomorrow's surveillance, all hell breaks loose.  
  
  
  
  
It's flashbangs, fucking synchronised flashbangs and then the house is fucking stormed. It's fucking embarrassing how quickly they're caught, all in the same room. By the time, they've even remotely recovered from the flashbangs they're surrounded by guys with guns.  
  
And they look fucking _professional_.  
  
As their hands are being zip-tied in front of them, Clay realises they're a man down. _Jensen_. He looks over at Cougar who seems to understand exactly what he's thinking.   
  
Neither of them glance at the door that leads to the basement, it's almost painful looking everywhere but _there_. The men start sweeping the house and Clay has no idea how to get out of this one.   
  
Someone notices the power cords leading into the basement and calls out to the others. A fist curls around the back of Clay's neck and someone's asking him what's through the door. Clay says nothing as the fist shakes him back and forth, there's really nothing he can say or do, just watch as they slowly turn the knob.   
  
It's maybe half turned when a short burst of gun fire splinters the door and takes out the guy opening it. Shouting, everyone's shouting, and firing, it's kind of a miracle that the door is still holding it's door-like shape.   
  
They stop firing and there's silence. Clay looks at his Losers, their jaws are clenched, chins jutting out defiantly but the longer the silence goes on the paler their faces get. Clay swallows, he knows he's in a bad situation, honestly it doesn't look good for them, but the idea of one of his men dying while he kneels on the floor seems unbearable.  
  
A new guy goes for the door, tries to open it quietly but only succeeds in rattling the knob before gunfire breaks out again.  
  
Roque's got a feral grin on his face that makes the guy behind him strike out with the butt of his gun, but even head trauma doesn't dull his grin.   
  
Everyone shouts, the guys holding Clay and the others are agitated as hell, and Clay gets a sinking feeling. They're stood up and marched out of the house, Clay looks back.   
  
Sees them jamming a massive cupboard up against the basement door.  
  
Sees them set fire to the house.  
  
"You sons of bitches!" Pooch yells as he sees the fire, and manages to get an elbow in someone's eye before they put him down hard and drag them out to the vans.  
  
  
  
It's a unique type of agony, watching a house burn, knowing someone's in it. Someone you know, someone you work with, someone you care for. The glass blows out of the top story windows, curtains flailing in the wind like they're trying to put themselves out, and they finally drive off.  
  
Clay's lost men before, had them die in his _fucking_ arms. This time feels worse, he doesn't know if it's because Jensen's so _young_ , or all the history they have together, or the callous way these guy's laughed as they lit the fire. Clay doesn't know why, just knows that it's his fault.  
  
Cougar doesn't say a word as they drive;  
  
doesn't say a word as they're all roughly dragged from the vans;  
  
doesn't say a word as they're shoved and pushed into a warehouse;  
  
doesn't say a word when he kills the guy nearest him with a quick duck, step back and neck snap.  
  
Cougar goes down fast, in a blur of bodies piling on top of him, kicking and punching. Clay gets a fist in the stomach trying to get them to stop.   
  
They're seperated after that, Cougar's limp body is left where he falls, which Clay takes to mean that they're going to die here.  
  
It's actually quite frustrating, he still has no idea who these guys are.  
  
  
  
  
  
Time has no meaning after that. It's just _punch_ , who are you working for? _punch_ what are you looking for? _punch_ over and over again.  
  
What they lack in imagination they try to make up in quantity. Clay hasn't said anything, he hasn't really got anything to say. To tell the truth, he's not sure which government agency is payrolling this, and he's only got a vague idea of what they were looking for.   
  
_punch_  
  
There's noises coming from somewhere that's not the room Clay's in.  
  
 _punch_  
  
It takes Clay a little while to figure that out.  
  
 _punch_  
  
At first it's a low buzzing, like he can hear shouting, or something but he's underwater.  
  
 _punch_  
  
But then he realises he can hear the distinct snapping shots of an M4.   
  
_punch_  
  
His torturer hasn't paused, Clay wonders whether the guy's so into his rhythm that he's not noticing what's happening outside.  
  
 _punch_  
  
But he fucking notices it when the door is blown inwards, and he notices it when a figure fires a three round burst into his chest.  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ dude, I am not made for this one man army bullshit."  Jensen complains loudly to the room, although Clay is his only audience.

 

His glasses are askew, his hair is almost black, there's what looks like _splinters_ along his hairline and there's soot gathered in his nostrils and in the corner of his eyes but he grins at Clay and says,  
  
"You look like a man who wants a knife."   
  
He hacks through Clay's ties with a small pocket knife and gestures to the rifle in his hand.  
  
"You want this? I'd offer a nice shiny bowie knife, but I found Roque first and, well, you know. _Roque_."  
  
This is the first time in his life (that he admits to, and if you ask him later, he probably won't admit to this one either) that Clay's ever been speechless. Jensen looks at him hard, actually looks at how fucked up his face is, and then gives him That Honduran General's Gun.   
  
Clay shouldn't be surprised that he has it, and Jensen's apparently been taking lessons in telepathy as well as bad-assery because he whines,  
  
"I left it on the kitchen counter and Cougar found it and shoved it down my pants yesterday. So mean, nearly nutted me. I kinda forgot about it until, you know, _fire_!"  
  
Clay grips the gun, it's a heavy piece - _heavy enough to beat someone's skull in_ \- and follows behind Jensen.  
  
  
  
  
They find Cougar where Clay had seen him last, from the way he's blinking slowly and fingers twitching minutely, he's only just regained consciousness. Jensen tucks the M4 behind his hip and leans over the sniper.  
  
"Hey buddy, you look like shit."  
  
Clay covers them from a distance, he's not a complete asshole and he knows this is something they have to settle together.  
  
Jensen helps Cougar sit, a hand on his back, steadying him.   
  
Cougar says nothing and Jensen's head drops a little.  
  
"I'm sorry," Clay's not far away enough to not hear the mumbled apology. "I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm _trying_."  
  
Fuck it. He sounds so fucking hurt and sad and broken that _Clay_ wants to give him a fucking hug.   
  
_Jesus, Cougs just fucking forgive him already._  
  
Clay maybe stops covering for a moment to look at the two. In time to see the corner of Cougar's mouth lift, which is apparently the only thing Jensen needs because he stops looking like a beaten dog and smiles brightly.   
  
Then the sniper lifts his hands up to Jensen's face and Clay turns back to covering.   
  
  
  
  
The mission is somewhat salvaged by the fact that Jensen also managed to get some of his equipment out of the house before it burnt to the ground. They kick through the safe house’s charred framework the next morning - it's pretty much completely fucked - but Jensen shows them the old coal hatch that was his exit.   
  
Looking at the twisted and blackened metal, and the tiny hole it once covered, Clay wonders all over again why Jensen is alive. Pooch hangs an arm over Jensen's shoulder and messes up his hair; something that would normally annoy him, but today it just gives Pooch a sooty hand.   
  
He leaves after that, promising to bring back something spectacular in way of transportation. Roque follows him, swearing to god that they will drive something that isn't an assault on normal people's retinas.  
  
  
  
"It's like the most selective alzheimer's ever." Clay's mostly asleep in the back of the, well let's face it, the van is pink. Jensen's resting against a bundled up jacket and the door frame. Cougar's head is against his shoulder; he doesn't move when Jensen speaks, ever so fucking quietly, but Clay's pretty sure he's listening.   
  
"I was thinking. I could maybe get, like, a tattoo. Or something to remind me. Like GUN across my knuckles. That'd be bad-ass. But then, I thought, what about airport security? Those fuckers already give me the fucking stink eye. Honestly, just because I’m always packing a lot of computers and technical _stuff_. Jesus. The way they look at me, like they think I've spent my entire life planning to hack a plane and make it fly me to Disneyland. Like today's that fucking day. Heh. That'd actually be pretty cool."  
  
And then he's quiet, like he thinks he's admitted way too much, even though he really hasn't said anything. Roque pipes up from the front,  
  
"I don't want to think about all the officer cock you had to suck to get this far in the army."   
  
Which just makes Jensen, Pooch and Clay snort with amusement, even Cougar snuffles something that sounds like a laugh, because in Roque-ese what he really means is, I understand you have a problem, and together, as men, we will get through it.


	5. Chapter 5

It's not a magical fix by any means. But somehow, now they've somewhat talked about - they're still men, so the talking was more like kicking dirt with their boots while everyone says nothing - and they get that he's not fucking around for the hell of it, somehow that knowledge makes it easier.  
  
It probably helps that they get their first leave in six months, and according to Jensen it's their first leave in _fuck-knows-how-long-yes-thats-the-technical-term_ that hasn't come about because they're fucked up.   
  
They've all got some serious bruises, and a couple of Cougar's ribs might be cracked, but they're hole free and _halle-fuckin-lujah_ no one's on crutches.   
  
Clay thinks he's maybe getting sentimental in his old age, but when Cougar and Jensen catch a flight to Cancun he can't help but feel fucking _grateful_.   
  
It's like every time something's wrong with their _thing_ , it always translates into the team. Which makes it sound like everything's their fault. It's probably the other way 'round, if Clay was to actually put thought into it - which no, he is definitely not - but still it's good to have things feel a little like they did before.  
  
He spends his leave on base. Apparently they're been sent back to Afghanistan, and really, it's been awhile. Clay quite likes it out there. Which, he's pretty sure, will never be something he can say out aloud. But even though it's charged with paranoia and dodgy as fuck, there's a simplicity to it that Clay appreciates.   
  
Plus the level of support out there is fucking _phenomenal_.  
  
  
  
  
They hit the sand running. Turns out the company wants them running around the backend of the country, because it'd be too much fucking trouble for them to have an easy day.   
  
By the sixth week they're tired and overworked. And every time it looks like there's the sweet light of downtime at the end of the tunnel, some fucking raghead comes out of hiding and they get whisked up and thrown in a new direction.   
  
  
  
  
They're actually sitting down at a proper base and not in a hotzone, so for now everything is sweet. Clay leaves the team to cheat each other in cards and goes to find out why they've gotten so lucky.  
  
They're on a chopper headed for the Hindu Kush three hours later.  
  
  
  
  
  
None of them really talk _after_.

 

The name **_MAX_** burns and screams over and over in Clay’s head, filling him with a seething rage that boils and boils and it’s all he can do not to yell – wordlessly and hoarsely – at the unforgiving clear desert skies.  He tamps it down as best he can -  the rage souring deep inside, like rotting flesh and untreated gut wounds - and tries to be the leader he’s supposed to be.

 

He gets the occasional grunt from Roque or Pooch.

 

Cougar just stares out at the miles of sand and says nothing.   
  
When Clay pushes him on the burns he's got all up his arms, the sniper fucking _growls_ at him.

  
He can get an absent 'hmmm' from Jensen, and the only time he’s gotten a proper _actual words_ answer was when he'd question Jensen on why he was still lugging his laptop and army tech across the desert with them.   
  
Jensen had just frowned, a hand scrubbing back and forth through his hair and guilt passing across his face.  
  
"I'm still alive, Colonel."  
  
Which Clay supposes makes sense, Jensen's best weapon has always been his tech.   
  
   
  
  
  
It's always a long trip out of the sand. It's a fucking lot longer on foot. They cross a border and six hundred miles before they feel even a little safe.   
  
Roque secures them a tiny run down house, no one asks how. It's shitty, only three rooms and one of them is the bathroom but it's got a roof that doesn't leak and more importantly it's got hot water.  
  
They spend the next week ignoring each other as they sleep, shower and try to sweat the smell of burning flesh from their pores.  
  
  
None of them seem to live in the same timezone, Roque disappears at random intervals, Pooch wanders the neighbourhoods in the early morning sun, Clay finds himself up at midnight, Cougar stays wrapped up in his bunk and only comes out to sit outside during the hottest hour of the day and Jensen sets up his computer in the kitchen and Clay hasn't seen him sleep or move since then.  
  
  
Jensen doesn't say a word until four o'clock one morning when they all hear the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of something frying in the kitchen.  
  
There's a yelp a minute later and something gets thrown out the window.   
  
Then Jensen starts talking.   
  
And doesn't shut the fuck up.  
  
They can't really hear what he's talking about, but he's still monologuing when they drift into the kitchen with the daylight.  
  
Pancakes.  
  
He's cooking pancakes, chatting loudly about nothing - he gestures violently with his pan, pointing in the direction of an old lady hanging washing across the road. She's not watching him - " _She's watching me_ " - he says, and spends the next twenty minutes flipping pancakes and telling them about how freaking suspicious washing lady is.  
  
Half of the pancakes are cold and there’s a reason why Jensen isn't the designated cook (that's Pooch, or Cougar, OR if they're insanely desperate, Roque) but they haven't eaten properly cooked food for weeks, it tastes like home.  
  
Roque eats everything on his plate and half of what's on the plates of Clay and Pooch sitting either side of him.  
  
Cougar pushes his pieces around his plate like a six year old until Jensen starts stealing a piece everytime he passes. Boot camp habit kicks in and Cougar starts shoveling food in to his mouth with one hand and guards his plate - fends off Jensen - with the other.   
  
  
  
  
After pancakes, after everyone has drifted in different directions, Jensen hands Clay the laptop he's been carrying for the last month, and tells him that it should be safe to use -   
  
"As long as you don't google yourself."  
  
"What about you?" Because, isn't Jensen the man with the computer? Really what the hell?  
  
"I'm all set up." Jensen hefts up a shiny, new, expensive looking laptop and Clay narrows his eyes.  
  
"Where the fuck did you get that?" Clay really wants to know.  
  
"Called in some favours."   
  
"You realise you're supposed to be dead? Dead people don't cash in on favours!" He maybe throws his hands in the air with disgust, Clay doesn't know why everytime he talks to Jensen he gets over dramatic.  
  
"Oh, no, those guys don't know my name, or about any of this really." He waves his hand in the air in a way that is supposed to describe their situation.  
  
"People who don't know you, bought you a laptop?"   
  
"The internet, Colonel. It's full of perverts and samaritans. And honestly? No one uses their real name on the internet anyway." Clay does, but then again he's not really _on_ the internet.  
  
"Actually the hardest part was getting it posted _here_. I needed money to get a post box, so they could send this somewhere, and i needed this to get money. God, I felt like that guy that gets shipwrecked on an island. You the 'oh i need a net to catch fish, so I'll make hat' guy?"  
  
Clay has no idea what he's going on about, so he just nods, commiserates - _I'm sure it was very hard_ \- and leaves the room with a laptop.  
  
  
  
  
  
They can't stay here forever, but Clay is at a loss for what they should do. What's keeping them alive is the fact that no one's looking for them.  
  
Jensen had quietly pulled him aside, looking around to make sure none of the guys are near, opened his laptop and on the screen is articles about them and official reports that look seriously confidential.  
  
The public records say they died in a tragic training accident, even the more confidential ones don't mention the kids - _oh god the kids_ \- just some lucky Afghani with an RPG taking out a SpecOps team.  
  
Someone had done a lot of leaning to make sure no one looked too closely at the crash site. Ironically that also kept their survival a secret at the same time.   
  
  
  
They have to split up. Go to ground and just be dead for a while. Give it time for anyone who might be watching their families to get bored and convince themselves that they're really dead.  
  
Give themselves time to regroup, try to work through the shit they've learnt, before they decide what they're going to do about it.  
  
  
  
  
They stay as long as they dare. The cover up and media lies keep them fairly safe from anyone looking for the specifically, but five foreign guys, appearing from nowhere in the middle of the night and living in one house, that shit's sure to be cause for comment amongst the locals.  
  
Clay talks to the guys about going separate ways. They're mostly agreeing, it's logical and fuck it if they don't see burning children and mangled chopper wrecks everytime they look at each other.   
  
  
  
Roque's apparently got his eye set on Eastern Europe, he says it suits his temperament and it does. He produces dodgy passports for them all a week later, they probably wouldn't pass inspection, but after Jensen fiddles with his computer, they should pass checks just fine.  
  
Cougar will be in Latin America. Somewhere.  
  
Pooch is going home. Do not fucking doubt that. Clay's thought about maybe saying something, but in the end there's no fucking point.   
  
Jensen, Clay thought he'd be going back to America, he has a sister and niece that he is insanely protective of. But he just grins, shakes his head and says he's going island hopping. And Clay realises he doesn't need to tell his sister that he's alive, because she already fucking knows.   
  
" _Goddammit Jensen._ "  
  
It's not his fault, Jensen whines, and as it turns out, it only kind of is. Apparently Jensen has a very distinctive signature to his hacking, a signature you probably wouldn't notice unless you'd lived with the insane hacker for years and were freakishly good with computers as well. All of the tramping he's done through DOD had apparently raised some flags with the one person who knew how to look for him. Jensen sheepishly shows the highly encrypted - seriously, Clay's seen CIA death orders with less encryption - message to Clay and he laughs for half an hour.  
  
 _you four eyed zombie son of a bitch. where the fuck are you?_  
  
It's not that funny, only it is, because by now she's let Jolene know and that makes it a fuckload easier for Pooch to waltz back into his family's lives.   
  
  
  
  
It's late afternoon and Roque's already left when Pooch ambushes him.   
  
"Don't split them up, Colonel."   
  
And Clay has no idea what he's talking about.  
  
"Jensen and Cougar."  
  
Oh. _That_.  
  
"You want us all to disappear in different directions, but have you actually looked at Cougar? The guy's cracked apart."   
  
Clay has looked at Cougar. Just hasn't really noticed anything, the plans and schemes to get back at Max are the only thing he's been paying attention to.  
  
"You want him to actually still be around when you try and call us back? You send Jensen with him. Kid'll keep him sane, heh, as fucked up as that sounds. Maybe just drive him an all right kind of crazy."  
  
Pooch says nothing more on the subject, just gives him a significant look and leaves the room.  
  
"So there _is_ an all right kind of crazy."  
  
And holy shit, is it fucking Sneak Up On Clay day? When did Jensen get so fucking good at sneaking up on people? Had he been there the entire conversation?  
  
"The Pooch is truly a fan of true love." Jensen says it sadly, like Pooch is a fan of unicorns, leprechauns and happy endings. "He probably writes smoopy RPF about us in his free time. Where we're sighing and fluttering our long lashes at each other."  
  
Clay is not following this monologue at all.  
  
"I bet he's the kind of fucker that calls me alabaster and Cougar mocha. Cougs ain't mocha, man I'd be all over that shit. Think we're bad now? Fucker was coffee flavoured? Mornings with us would be all kinds of X rated."  
  
Clay frowns at him as he walks off, still babbling about coffee? Clay's going to say it was about coffee. He's a little stunned, his mind is stuttering and repeating itself.   
  
_Did Jensen just out himself?_  
  
Clay shrugs, then wonders what the fuck RPF is supposed to be. He goes so far as to load up Google before remembering the last time he actually looked up something Jensen had babbled about. He closes the laptop down and congratulates himself on not getting caught in what is no doubt a cleverly laid Jensen trap.  
  
  
  
  
Later that night - their last night together - Clay's making rounds of the house and definitely not looking to overhear any intimate conversations.   
  
They're just out the front door, legs dangling off the front step, Cougar's hunched over, sitting, Jensen's laying back, a hand lazily playing with the frayed hem of Cougar's t-shirt.  
  
"You all set? For tomorrow I mean?"   
  
Cougar makes a small noise, something that probably means 'As ready as I'll ever be.'  
  
Jensen sits up and bumps his shoulder against the sniper's.  
  
"Hey, it's only for a bit. You leave me the signal, hey!" He bumps Cougar harder, knocking his hat upwards.  
  
"You leave me the signal and I'll find you. I'll find you, I'm good at that you know."   
  
Clay sees a small almost smile on Cougar's face and walks away. Some things aren't for seeing.  
  
  
  
  
The next morning Clay is worrying about sending them out alone.  
  
Roque, he figures, he can get back with the right mix of old army buddy-ness, 'what else you gonna do?' and a whole lot of sweet revenge. Roque probably wouldn't go for the whole 'they'd been used to kill an American thing' spiel, but the fact that they'd tried to kill him (and were shit at it, to be honest), well. That was the sort of shit that Roque takes personally.  
  
Cougar will most likely disappear. Clay would be worried about finding him again, but one look at the haunted look in his eyes, the way he shifts from barely contained seething rage to brooding silently in the dark and Clay's pretty sure even the vaguest promise of retribution will bring him running.   
  
Jensen. Clay works out his chances at about fifty/fifty. Maybe tipped a little to the yes because the kid likes the adventure and adrenaline that comes with the job, and, more importantly, if Cougar's in, Jensen's in.  
  
Pooch is the only one Clay's not sure he can convince. Technically Jensen's the genius of the company, but Pooch is the one with the most sense. And the best reason to stay away.  
  
When the time comes, Clay is going to be a truly bad person and lure him back with false promises of being able to live a normal life with his family, and when Pooch sees through that bullshit, Clay is going to guilt him into returning.   
  
(They need him, does he want them to die because he wasn't there?)  
  
END


End file.
